This is my psychiatrist's couch. Take from it what you will.
But do leave a note.
I still am a late middle aged former government worker marking time until the cliff.
Short Fiction, Doggerel and Insensitive Opinion are spoken here.
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Thursday, April 30, 2015

Charon's Ferry (Blogophilia 10.8)

Bam.

Breathe in, gotta
breathe out.

Pressed the detonator again, nothing.

Breathe in….Breathe out…

Bam

Splinters as the door exploded inward…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bartender came up said the ride was here; did you want
to finish the drink? Yea, one more sip. Need one more sip. Slipping and sliding
into oblivion.

The paring knife appeared, slashing wildly. Fire began just
under his right hand and moved upward. Something wet and sticky landed across
his face.

He sees Charon sitting at the helm at the Styx, waiting for his
passengers. Scaled harpies kept pulling him toward the depths. Sirens with voices
like perfume sang sweetly, beckoning him further toward the boat. Jeremy could see
the Angels stitched into the sails, their mouths moving with the breeze.

“I’m your ride, leave
your burdens down.”

Sarah!

The Scarlet aperture closing along the edge of his vision. If he hurried, he might make it. Swimming in molasses,
struggling to breathe. A little further to go. With a leap… An unknown force grabbing at his sleeve. With a clank, the
red door shut with him on the wrong side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With a lonely click, the gurney was fastened in place. With a final pleasantries with the red coated manager, the paramedics loaded into the wagon and drove away. The bleeding controlled, the patient probably will
survive. They could take their time and let the hospital deal
with it.

“Love on the rocks, ain’t no surprise. Pour me
a drink, and I’ll tell you some lies.”

The bar logo The 3 Sheets, shimmering in the lonely, wet nigh as the sound system played on the speakers. Only a couple of cars
left in the parking lot. The police had already come and gone. The damage was
done, nothing left to control. All they could do was to write the report and
file it.

“Got nothin’ to lose,
so I just sing the blues all the time.”

As the ambulance left, Barney slowly went through the room
and back to the office. In all of his years tending, he’d never one that slit
their wrists. Plenty of meltdowns and a couple that threatened with guns. But
never anything like this. He was doing him a favor just letting him sleep it
off in the office. What a mess. Good thing Paolo and Jose were still here to
get him out of the bar before he went completely off.

As he mopped the splatter off the walls, he could only
wonder who Sarah was. Must have been some relationship for him to go there. With a little dab, a small scab broke loose
off the edge of the sofa and landed in the dustpan. What was it from the old
Star Wars movie? The fear of loss was the path to the dark side? This guy was a far ways down that path.

With a shrug, he picked up the mop and pail and headed back
into the bar.